


Bubble

by kedgeree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedgeree/pseuds/kedgeree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg. Mycroft. Bubble bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bubble

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Пена](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334936) by [Shae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae/pseuds/Shae)



> As warm-ups for fic writing, I've been doing three instances of quick and dirty, first-thought reaction sentences, paragraphs, ficlets in response to two words from a random word generator. It's relaxing and fun and I'm usually surprisingly pleased with the results. I just thought I'd share one of my favorites from today. The two words were "mirror" and "bubble".

Greg leaned in toward Mycroft, sending a rush of hot bath water rippling between their bodies beneath the layer of fluffy white suds on the surface. He'd initially thought Mycroft's insistence on adding _bubbles_ to their bath was a rather silly affectation— even though he was generally extremely fond of Mycroft's affectations—but he had to admit the addition was quite nice. It _smelled_ wonderful, like oranges and rosemary, and it made him more aware of all his senses. It made him feel _sexy_.

He reached out and slid his hand around the back of Mycroft's neck, pulling him close enough to kiss the spot just behind the corner of his jaw. Greg touched his tongue to pink-flushed skin, tasting salt from the heat of the bath.

Mycroft responded with a hum of pleasure, slowly tilting his head back to bare his throat in submission to Greg's touch, kisses, teeth. 

It was going to be that kind of night, then. And, oh, that worked for him. Greg's desire spiked, and one corner of his mouth curled into a predatory smile. He nipped at Mycroft's skin with a low growl of approval.

"Gregory," Mycroft sighed, sliding one long thigh along the outer length of Greg's as he inched their bodies closer together.

Greg's hands roamed Mycroft's bare skin, pushing droplets of water over his exposed shoulders and dipping into the water to follow the curve of his back. He gripped Mycroft's hips and pulled him forward, sending a wave sloshing toward the side of the tub. Water splashed onto the tiled floor below. This one might get messy. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice muffled against Mycroft's skin.

Mycroft braced a hand on the floor of the bath behind him, arching into the press of Greg's kisses. "Gregory," he breathed, and Greg heard the smug smile in his voice.

"I love how you say it." Greg reached between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around Mycroft's erection.

Mycroft made a sound of prideful satisfaction.

Greg squeezed gently and pumped his fist over the swollen tip. "But I'm going to suck you," his voice had gone dark with promise, "until you can't say it any more. Until you can't _speak_." He twisted his head to graze Mycroft's jaw with his teeth. "I'm going to—" And caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.

Perched atop his head was a jaunty but substantial cone-shaped hat of soap bubbles.

Greg stared at himself, mouth open. In his embrace, in his fist, Mycroft began to shake with silent laughter.

"Oh," Greg finally managed, "yeah, that's _really_ sexy."

"I was truly hoping you wouldn't notice," Mycroft gasped between now-audible giggles.

"Oh, _were_ you?" Greg turned an exaggeratedly offended glare on Mycroft, who glanced up at the dollop of suds and shook even harder, and suddenly Greg's throat tightened. How often did Mycroft Holmes laugh with his whole body? How often was his face this open, this relaxed with pure delight? Not often enough. It could never be often enough. Mycroft's eyes were crinkled to slits and sparkling with mirth, and Greg loved him so much that for a moment he thought he might drown in it.

He scooped up a generous handful of bubbles and placed them carefully on top of Mycroft's head, pulling his hand away so that the foam formed a pointy little cone.

"Now then," he said, drawing a rich tone of dignity into his voice, "where was I?"

Mycroft's breath hitched in between another giggle and a sobered inhalation. "Gregory."

" _Right_ ," Greg nodded. "Until you can't say my name." He gathered Mycroft to him until their joined bodies were an island, complete with snow-capped peaks, in the centre of the wide bath and kissed him with all the ridiculous joy and desire and promise in his soul. It was going to be _that_ kind of night.

 

 


End file.
